Death is Only
by Darkwolf9
Summary: A young man with necromantic powers is recruited by Anubis for a mission - involving two dead Egyptians! R/R at your leisure. :) *finished*Chapters 5 & 6 are Up!
1. Black and Gold

**Standard Disclaimer** Some of the characters in this story are not mine. They belong to Universal. I'm not getting paid to do this, so don't sue me!

September 29, 1999 BCE

Egypt again. He had dreamt of it so often the even in his sleep he was aware of the repeated occurrence. This time he was walking in what appeared to be a palace, magnificent in its splendor. The paintings and hieroglyphics were fresh and bright, statues lined the hallways. The guards ignored him as he wandered, as if he belonged there. Perfume and incense scented the air, drifting on the warm desert breeze. Outside the world was bathed in a cooling twilight, the stars beginning to dot the sky one by one. He walked down a set of stairs and out into the street. Despite the growing dark, there were people crowding the street, some on their way home, others off to parties. In this dream world, the people were speaking English. He could hear snatches of conversations, not unlike any he heard on a modern city street. It gave him an odd sense of comfort as his feet carried him on. At last he found himself at the entrance to a small temple. 

            Entering the temple, he was greeted by a gold painted priest. "Take me to the sanctuary." He heard himself saying. The priest obliged, leading him through the torch lit temple to the inner sanctum. He was handed a torch before entering the tiny room. It had been dark before his arrival and now the firelight splashed across the walls and statue and glinted off gold. A magnificent statue of Anubis upon a stand dominated the room. An alter lay before the statue, and on it were incense, a pitcher, a bowl and two books: one black and one gold. He knelt before the altar, marveling at the beauty of the books as he lit the incense.

"Lord Anubis, what do you wish of me?" He asked, somewhat distracted by the feeling of power the books were giving off. 

            Without moving, the statue spoke, "You are learning well, and quickly. The time will come for you to make a choice – between one destiny and another."

            Everything faded out until only the books remained: gold and black, beautiful as the night, beautiful as the day. Then they too faded and for the briefest of seconds he floated in darkness. A blink of his eyes and two people were standing in front of him. One was a tall, strong looking man, hairless and robed like a High Priest. The other was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had long black hair and delicate features that nevertheless betrayed strength and dignity. Her eyes were dark and sparkled with intelligence. Except for a mere scrap of cloth about her waist, she was naked, and her entire body was painted all in gold with black designs. Here was a woman to rival a Goddess. The image burned into his brain and he reached his hand out as if to touch them.

He woke suddenly, panting and bathed in sweat. After a moment of disorientation, he laid back down, turning the dream over in his mind. Just before he could drift off to sleep again, his alarm went off and he groaned. Zane Andrews rolled wearily out of bed and began to get ready for another day.

            His classes passed slowly. Even lunch seemed to drag on. It was all he could do to keep most of his mind on the lessons and not on the dream. Zane had been dreaming of Egypt for over two years, and over the summer they had become more frequent and intense. He had seen lost cities and forgotten shrines, walked on the Giza plateau while the pyramids were in their prime. And now he had seen the two books and the two people.

            When the last class of the day was over, Zane couldn't seem to get home fast enough. He hurried up the stairs of his house and into the tiny room that served as an alter to his patron god, Anubis. 

            Kneeling before the offering table, he spoke. "Great Anubis, Lord of the Dead, come before your servant and hear my plea for answers." Zane didn't really expect him to answer. They had been having yet another argument this week and Zane had refused to perform any rituals to him until he got more information. Since the argument, he had not had any dreams about Egypt. Until last night. 

            After only a few breaths, he felt the unmistakable presence of the jackal God behind him. In his mind's eye Zane turned and saw Anubis standing before him. "So, Zane, you want answers? As I have told you many times, you need to learn patience."

            "I know. I'm trying, but these dreams – and the things you show me in meditations, they just drive me crazy. I want to know what they mean."

            "I have been testing you, seeing if you would ignore these things or pursue them. Your frustration is a good sign, so I will tell you a few things. First, these visions may lead you to do work for me on this earth, the way you send lost and weary souls to my arms."  
            A seemingly normal if quiet college student, Zane had the ability to sense and speak to the dead. Anubis had been training him for over two years, teaching him to guide lost souls into the afterlife. It had simply become part of Zane's life, something to add to the strange things he did.

            "May? What do you mean 'may'?" 

            With measured patience, Anubis said, "Your choice will be made later. Listen to me." The black and gold books suddenly appeared, floating in the space between them. "Learn all you can about the Book of the Dead." He said, indicating the black one.

            "But I already read that, in three translations."

            "That is the Book of Going Forth by Day. You know that. I speak of the Book of the Dead. It is different. This," he pointed to the gold book, "is the book of Amon-Ra. It should be less confusing to find. I will tell you more later. For now, search."

            Then Anubis was gone, leaving Zane alone in the room with more questions than answers.

Long into the night, he searched the internet, looking for information on the two books. His searches for the Book of the Dead turned up what he had expected, and after an hour of searching he gave up. He tried the Book of Amon-Ra instead and was surprised to find it on a site about legendary places. The site had information on Atlantis, El-Dorado, Shangri-La, Eden, and an Egyptian city known as Humunaptra, the 'City of the Dead.' Zane vaguely remembered seeing the name somewhere before. Supposedly the pharaohs of the Old Kingdom had stashed their treasure there, including the book of Amon-Ra, which was said to be made of pure gold. In the early 30's there had been an excavation to find the city, but it had been shut down after the mysterious deaths of a number of the workers and the sudden loss of funds only days later. The British Museum, which had supposedly funded the dig, denied having any involvement. The Egyptian government had confiscated all the records and refused to issue a permit to anyone searching for Humunaptra.

            It sounded a bit too much like a conspiracy theory to him, but Anubis's words stayed with him. When his eyelids began to droop, Zane went to bed. His dreams were blessedly normal.


	2. Choices

Anubis walked through the Field of Reeds, barely noticing the beauty around him. He was lost in thought, wonder what words he would use to sway the Ennead this day. In time, he came to a gleaming white building – the court of Osiris. Passing the guards without a glance, he stepped through the massive doors and made his way to the throne on the other end of the huge room. The jackal lord bowed low to the figure on the throne. "Greetings, Osiris. Praise to you eternal one, judge of the dead, mighty of strength and fair of judgment."

            "Hail, Anubis. We will hear you speak yet again this day." The formal voice carried a hint of weariness.

Anubis bowed again and took his seat. He waited patiently as the other Gods arrived. When all had gathered, Osiris addressed the court. "O Great Ones of the Ennead, we gather this day once again so that Anubis may plead his case. He wishes to return life to two mortals in his care. We know your words well, O Foremost of Westerners. We know that which you ask of us. What new have you to say?"

Slowly, Anubis got to his feet. "O Mighty Gods of the Ennead, long have you heard me speak the case of these mortals. Of the injustice that they have suffered. Today I say to you: there is a living mortal, a young man who now serves me. Let him take some of the burden from the souls in my care. His heart is light and he could carry much. Let him share in their evil deeds so that they may share in his good."

Ma'at, goddess of the balance, spoke, "It could be done thus."

"But the young man would need to accept this burden." Osiris said.

"He will accept it." Anubis said.

Osiris pondered for a moment. "Very well. You may have the soul of the man." He would not speak his name. A name carried power, and he did not wish to give this being power.

"What of the woman?" Anubis asked.

"She has lived and died twice as a mortal. Let her be judged on her deeds."

Anubis sighed. It was going to be another long day.

Nearly three years had come and gone since Zane had first seen the two Egyptians in his dream. He had learned much of ancient Egypt since that time, and much about the legends surrounding that land. He had served Anubis well, sending lost spirits to find their peace in the afterlife. Zane's power and confidence grew with every sending.

And now, school was coming to an end. Zane studied over the remaining months of the school year, cramming for his finals. He passed his tests, turned in his assignments and earned his last few credits. The years of classes, teachers, stress and deadlines were suddenly over. They handed him a piece of paper and sent him on his way. Late into the night he celebrated with his classmates: drinking, dancing, and reminiscing. 

"So, what are you going to do with yourself?" His friend Jack asked him.

"Next month I'm going on a trip to Egypt." The trip had been Anubis's idea. Zane had always wanted to see the land of the pharaoh's, so he made no objection.

"That sounds cool. What are you going to do after that?"

Zane shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'll get a job or something." Professional Necromancer didn't seem like a realistic job choice, but he would worry about his future employment when he got back.

When it got to the point that he was either going to pass out there or go home, he called a cab to take him back to his house. He was nauseous on the ride, but was able to keep control of his stomach. Not long after he got home, Zane threw up into the toilet, forced himself to brush his teeth, and stumbled off to bed. He barely had time to take off his clothes before falling asleep.

The darkness was as smooth as silk and littered with a thousand stars. The desert was empty and stretched on for miles on every side. "Where am I?" Zane wondered aloud.

"One of my places." A voice said from everywhere and nowhere at once. The sand before him swirled into a column and condensed into the form of Anubis. Behind him, as insubstantial as mist, were the two figures he had seen in his dream almost three years ago. "You will make your decision today."

And Zane woke, a dull ache in his head and his mouth as dry as the desert sands.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. He groaned and slipped on a pair of pants. Who would be visiting him at this time of the day? If it was Jehovah's Witnesses, he was going to give them hell. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the doorbell rang again. At this distance, the noise was loud enough to be painful. Zane clutched his head, "I'm coming!" He called.

When he opened the door, he saw a man he didn't recognize standing there. He was tall, with blond hair and a few days' worth of stubble on his face. The man was holding a small box in front of him. "Hello, friend. Are you the follower of Anubis that I seek?"

"What?" Zane's hung-over mind was not prepared to deal with this. "I mean, I'm a follower of Anubis, but who are you?"

The man made a short bow. "My name is Michael. I'm a priest of Amon-Ra. I was told to give you this book." He held the box out to Zane. 

Still confused, Zane took the box. Immediately he knew what was in it: The Book of Amon-Ra. The energy that was coming from the box was too strong for it to be anything else. "Thank you." He said awkwardly. He didn't know what else to say.

Michael smiled. "Don't thank me. Thank Lord Amon-Ra. He wishes you and Anubis well."

"How did you get this book?" Zane asked.

Michael shook his head, "It's a long story. I need to head home now. Good luck." With that, the man turned and left, leaving Zane to stand in confusion on his doorstep. His curiosity overcame him and he went back inside to open the box.

The Book of Amon-Ra was glorious. It was solid gold and etched deep with hieroglyphics. And the power . . .this was no mere book. Try as he might, Zane could not get the book open. After studying the strange scarab within a star design on the cover, he realized it must need some kind of key. A key which he obviously did not have. Defeated, he put the book back in the box and went to speak with Anubis.

Zane stood before his altar, eyes closed and breathing deeply. He imagined himself inside a cool temple, in an empty room lined with columns. This is what he thought of as his meeting place, neutral ground where he and Anubis could speak. A few seconds passed and Zane felt the presence of Anubis behind him. Zane turned and bowed to his God. "Lord Anubis, I have the Book of Amon-Ra, now what?"

"Now, there are things I must show you." Anubis beckoned to him. Zane drew nearer to the God, and Anubis laid his hand against his cheek. His hand was warm and soft, as if it were covered in fine fur. For a moment Zane simply enjoyed the touch of his patron. And then his mind was flooded with visions.

They seemed to come all at once and yet last a long time. He saw the priest again and learned his name – Imhotep. He also saw the beautiful woman and heard her name spoken: Anck-su-namon. He saw their love for each other, the murder of the Pharaoh, the attempt at resurrection. He saw mercifully little of the Hom-dai being enacted, but wept anyway. He recognized it from his more obscure readings and was horrified that it had been used. He saw also Imhotep's resurrection and the damage he had caused. It was not his fault, but the curse being fulfilled. But as Zane saw, Imhotep himself was not without blame. When he was defeated and drowned within the black pool, Zane thought it was over. But more visions invaded his mind. Anck-su-namon, reborn into another body, remembered her past and brought Imhotep back to life once more. Zane had read the legend of the Scorpion King and knew what they were up to. The same people who had brought Imhotep back the first time were again in the priest's path. Zane saw every evil act Imhotep and Anck-su-namon did, every person they killed. But still he felt their love for each other, and he was torn. He saw them defeated again at the hands of the O'Connells and witnessed their deaths. He watched Ahm Shere sink into the sand, covered and forgotten.

Then Zane was back in his altar room, lying on the floor, shaking and covered in sweat. The visions were running through his head like living things. But one image above all haunted him: the look of hopelessness on Imhotep's face as Anck-su-namon left him to die. For all the wrong he had done, there was still something left, something human.

A few minutes passed and Zane's head began to clear. Anubis spoke to him again, "The Ennead has debated long, but it has been decided that Imhotep and Anck-su-namon will be brought back to live out their lives as mortals." They were once again in the meeting place in Zane's mind. Zane and Anubis were facing each other across the space of a few feet. "Your choice is this: you can either go to Egypt and raise them from the dead, or you can choose not to."

Zane thought for a moment. "What happens if I say no?"

"Then I will need to find another way."

So it could be done without him. It would be so much easier to say no and let someone else worry about it. But Imhotep's tear-filled eyes kept returning to him. Zane had a hundred questions he wanted to ask about why this had been decided, why he was being asked, and what he was supposed to do.

"I must warn you, though. If you accept, you will take on the burden of their hearts. Through them, you will be weighed down by their evil deeds, and through you, their hearts will be lightened."

These people had stolen, killed, planned to take the world by force, and even defied the gods, things that Zane found terrible. But they had also loved, and they'd had that taken from them twice. If he could to something to restore the balance and give them another chance, he would.

"Yes." Zane said, "My answer is yes. I'll bring them back."

"It won't be easy." Anubis warned.

"Is it ever?"

Anubis laughed. "Sometimes." He said, "Sometimes it is."


	3. Desert Mysteries

Egypt

June 30, 2002 B.C.E.

The heat and silence were like a weight pressing down in him. The wind was light and warm and brought no relief, only tossing the sand that stretched from horizon to horizon. The horse's hooves made a pleasant shifting noise in the sand as it walked, steady as its ancestors had been through the harsh terrain. Zane had begun to doze when movement on a dune caught his attention. As he neared, he realized that it was a jackal. The jackal stared at him until he began to mount the dune, then it disappeared down the other side. Zane had no doubt that it was a messenger from his god. He urged the horse up and over the dune and followed the jackal through the desert. An hour passed by, then two. Only the movement of the sun overhead and the digital watch he wore told Zane that any time had passed. The sand and the heat and the jackal ahead were unchanging. 

Adeem had been following the American since the last town. He had glimpsed the smallest glint of gold from inside his bag when he had packed it on the horse. Adeem had no idea what the boy was up to, but he was sure the gold he was carrying was worth more than the trouble of following him through the desert. Now the American seemed to be following a jackal. He must be mad. The only thing that kept him from killing the boy now was the chance that he might lead him to more gold. 

Far ahead of him, the jackal stopped. To the west, the sun was just touching the horizon. Nightfall was not far away. The jackal circled a few times, sniffed at the sand, and then began to dig. Zane dismounted and led his horse behind him as he approached the jackal. When he reached the shallow hole in the sand, the animal turned and ran off into the desert. Zane watched him go for a moment, but made no move to follow. This is where he was supposed to be. To one side he could see a large rock formation. Perhaps a long dead mountain range, or even a canyon. If it were a canyon, there might be a river flowing through it. The thought stirred a strong desire in Zane. Never in his life had he been so far from water. The sun began to sink below the horizon. The thought of spending the night in the desert made him suddenly nervous.

"Anubis?" he called out into the bleak landscape. "I don't see any oasis around here. Is it over there by that ridge? I think I'll just go over there now." He took one step away from the hole and a light but sudden breeze whipped up the sand around him. He felt the presence of his patron as strongly as he had ever felt it.

"Wait . . . and watch."

There was a moment of silence, and then a great rumbling began in the sand beneath Zane's feet. He had to struggle to keep the horse from bolting. A hundred feet in front of him, the top of a pyramid emerged and began to rise. Up and up, it seemed to rise forever. Then for more than a mile around, trees began to spring up. Soon the area was a dense as a jungle. Last of all, a row of jackal statues rose on either side of Zane so that when the earthquake finally stopped, he was standing on the avenue between them. The row of statues led straight to the entrance of the pyramid. 

After a few more minutes, the horse settled and Zane stood looking around in amazement at Ahm Shere. His breathing was heavy and quick with exertion and fear and wonder. Not knowing what else to do, he dropped to his knees and bowed before the pyramid. Then he got to his feet and began walking toward the entrance.

Just outside the range of the trees, Adeem stood blinking and rubbing his eyes. _Desert madness. Heat stroke. He kept thinking to himself. But he hadn't been out here even an entire day yet. He had been out in the desert much longer than this before, and he had never seen anything like this. Stories about djinn and magic treasure he had heard as a boy filled his mind. Surely none of them could be true, could they? Even though he was not a believer, Adeem made a prayer to Allah before urging his camel into the trees._

The sky was awash in twilight as Zane tied his horse to a small tree outside the pyramid. He sorted through his backpack and left behind anything he would not need while inside. When everything was in order, he turned on his high powered flashlight and walked toward the doorway. The pyramid practically hummed with power and made it hard to focus. Zane knew that his first task was to find the Book of the Dead and the key that would open both books. As soon as he had stepped over the threshold, he was bombarded by images of the past. The events that had taken place within these walls almost seventy years ago rushed through him. He had to lean against the doorframe to prevent himself from falling. But through the visions he could see where he needed to go. When the images subsided, he began to walk purposefully down the hall.

Inside the pyramid it was as silent as a tomb. Darkness closed in on all sides, and only the beam of the flashlight kept it at bay. Zane's footsteps echoed off the walls and ceiling, the noise seeming somehow profane, like shouting in church. The last time humans had entered here, they had been surging with emotions: fear, anger, love, hate, greed, hope, grief. The air itself felt heavy with the drama of the past. Zane passed by statues and paintings that had been seen only by a tiny handful of people, and likely would never be seen by anyone else. He wished that he could somehow take them with him, show the world their fine craftsmanship and beauty. He was sure that when he left here, the sand would swallow Ahm Shere once more, this time for good.

Ahead of him was a flight of stairs leading down. He descended, his mind returning to the events that had occurred here. They were familiar to him, the way scenes from a movie are familiar to one who has watched it many times. The room below him . . . something had happened here. When Zane was almost at the bottom, he realized that what he had thought were pillars were not pillars at all. They were statues. His heart skipped a beat. Standing before him were the most magnificent Anubis statues he had ever seen. A few seconds later, he remembered to breathe and took the last few steps to the bottom. Zane was now standing between the two statues. A rush of power whipped through him, like a wind without motion. The power was so great that he fell to his knees. As he knelt there he remembered: this was where Anubis had taken the power from Imhotep, forcing him to face the Scorpion King as a mortal. The wind subsided and Zane climbed shakily to his feet. He picked up his flashlight and moved on, deeper into the pyramid.

Carrying the torch he had fashioned out of a tree branch, Adeem walked through the dark pyramid. He kept a long distance between himself and the boy, hoping he would not see the light or hear him. The American moved like he knew the place. The things he had passed by so far must be worth a fortune. If the American was heading to where there was more . . . Adeem's head danced with visions of gold that would make Tutankhamon's tomb look like a piggybank. He came to a spilt in the hall and paused, listening for the footsteps that would show him the right way. He could hear sounds very softly off to his left. Turning, he continued walking down the hall, imagining all the things he would do with his new found wealth.

This room was certainly familiar. Zane could see the past events overlaying the physical room like a projection. Anck-su-namon was fighting with the English woman, their sais clashing together. Zane walked up close to them and watched his hand pass through Anck-su-namon. They were only memories being replayed, not even ghosts. There was a tug at Zane's arm, so strong he was startled and turned to see who it was. Though he could see no one, he knew it was Anubis. He had been with him since he had walked between the statues. "The Book." Anubis said. Zane nodded and moved through the room, the memories fading like mist around him. As soon as he stepped into the next room he _knew_ the Book of the Dead was in here. The Book of Amon-Ra in his backpack tingled with energy: the books were calling each other. The power was calling to him as well. As if sleepwalking, he moved toward the stone slab where the black book laid, slowing stretching his hand out to touch it. When his skin at last contacted the ebony cover, he felt as if he had become part of a current between the books. They knew each other as two sides of a coin, as two halves long separated. "Take it." Anubis told him. Zane picked up the Book of the Dead and turned to make his way to the Scorpion King's chamber. 


	4. Bringing Him Back

The air was hot and difficult to breathe. Zane knelt in front of the rift that ran across the large chamber, the books on either side of him. The rift was cold and dark, but Zane's inner vision showed it filled with fire, and heat, and souls. Imhotep had entered the underworld from here – bodily. Zane knew that if he stopped to think about what he was doing, he wouldn't do it. He took a few deep breaths and placed the Book of the Dead on his lap. The key was still in the lock, and he turned it. The mechanism released with a click, and Zane's hands took over for him, opening the book and turning the pages until he got to the right one. A few more breaths and Zane began to read, aided by the light that was already growing in the rift below.

_"Amon-Ra, Amon-day . . ."_

The energy in the room seemed to draw in closer. It was almost suffocating. As Zane continued to read the spell, the words echoing off the walls, the light continued to grow. Fire could be seen at the edge of the rift, and now the sound of thousands of voices (cheering? screaming?) rose from the great crack in the earth. Zane couldn't stop now even if he wanted to. The words and the power were carrying him along. Every cell in his body was vibrating as if electrically charged. His voice, deeper and more resonate than it had ever been, spoke the last few words, _"Yah-tuay, yah-tuay, yah-tuay!"_

A deep rumble shook the ground, and fire erupted from the rift. Zane had just enough presence of mind to grab the books before stumbling backward. The wall of fire reminded Zane of footage of a volcano eruption he had seen on TV before. The heat was intense, but nothing burned beyond the fire itself. After a few long seconds, the fire subsided, going back down into the rift from whence it came. The voices, too, were gone. Silence descended to fill the space the noise had left behind.

In the fading light, Zane saw something on the other side of the rift. A body was lying face down on the floor. Even without seeing his face, he knew that it was Imhotep. He could feel him, almost like a vibration. He could now feel Anck-su-namon now, too. She was not far from here, her body nothing more than dust. It was a very odd sensation to feel people like this, and with everything else that had gone on, Zane was feeling overwhelmed. He took a few seconds to steady himself, then picked up the flashlight and got to his feet. Anubis was still there, but he felt more distant. "Be careful. He doesn't know where he is, or what has happened to him." The god said quietly. There was something in his tone, gentleness or sadness. For the first time Zane realized that this was more than a job to Anubis. Perhaps the Lord of the Dead himself had something to do with the decision to resurrect the doomed lovers.

The rift loomed ominously between him and Imhotep. It was not wide, but he would need to jump across it to reach the other side. Trying not to think, Zane backed up and ran as fast as he could. In the shaking beam of his flashlight he saw the rift approach and he jumped. In the brief second that he hung over the abyss, the sound of the souls deep below filled his head. It was so sudden and so loud that he almost passed out. Then he felt sold stone beneath him and he grabbed his head screaming, "Out, out, out!" to the voices. The cacophony was so loud that he couldn't make a single word out among it. The sound threatened to drive him mad. Then, a single voice, clearly in English, cut through the noise. "Help me." It said. And he knew that voice, knew it in a way that should not have been possible. It was Anck-su-namon. A part of him recognized it from the dreams and visions, but another part of him felt as if he truly remembered her. A few dozen feet away, Imhotep moved. 

The voices dwindled and fell silent. Zane regained control of himself and slowly got to his feet. He picked up the flashlight that had thankfully not been broken when he dropped it. He would have to move quickly now. Imhotep could awaken at any moment and something told him he would need to be there when he did. 

In a few seconds, Zane's flashlight illuminated the body of Imhotep. He hesitated a few feet away, moved closer and knelt down. Then he hesitated again. He was still trying to figure out what this odd feeling was. The vibration was stronger now that he was closer. He knew he had to wake Imhotep up, but he feared what might happen when he did. There was no way of knowing what he had been through. If Imhotep had been floating in unconsciousness this whole time, he would still recall falling through the rift and being snatched at by the eager souls waiting below. If he had been conscious the whole time . . . Zane didn't want to know what he may have been through.

_Get it over with. Get it over with. _Zane told himself. He reached out his hand and touched Imhotep's shoulder. For a second, nothing happened. Then, Zane was seeing that last moment again, with Imhotep hanging over the chasm. But this time he was seeing it from Imhotep's perspective, feeling what he felt. He watched Anck-su-namon as she ran away, and his heart was filled with such despair that life itself did not matter. All he had been through, all the suffering and pain, everything was pointless. Everything was empty. He loved her so much that it hurt, and now that she was gone there was nothing. Nothing. He didn't care what happened to him. It didn't mater. And it was so easy to let go . . . for a while he simply fell, sadness numbing him. Then he felt the hands, hundreds – thousands of them. Grabbing, pulling, pushing. And the screams. All he could hear were the screams. All else was pushed aside as fear finally took hold.

Zane came back to himself screaming. And face to face with Imhotep, who was also screaming. They both blinked, realizing they were no longer down in that fiery pit. Then they stumbled backwards on their hands and knees a few paces. Imhotep began to yell in Egyptian, but Zane wasn't able to translate. He forced himself to concentrate harder and was able to make out a few words. Imhotep was screaming about falling, and fire and the feeling of grasping hands on his body. He took a breath and some of the fear left his eyes, "Where am I? Where am I?" He asked. Then his expression changed again, and Zane knew he was in trouble.

This was the Imhotep that had sucked the life out of men, killed without thought, and plotted to take the world by force. He got to his feet quickly, if a bit shakily, and Zane did the same. "You are back in the pyramid of the Scorpion King." Zane said badly in Egyptian. 

There was a flicker that Imhotep tried to hide. "Who are you?"

"My name is Zane. I brought you back."

"Why?"

"I serve the will of the gods."

Imhotep laughed. "The gods! I have no need of gods. I am a god!"

"I can help you bring back Anck-su-namon." Zane said.

"She is dead?" Imhotep said carefully.

"Yes."

"What happened to her?"

Zane dropped his gaze. "Scarabs. It was . . . it was pretty quick, but . . ." He trailed off. After a deep breath, he continued. "Do you want her back?"

Imhotep considered. She had abandoned him to death, caused him pain that transcended anything physical that he had ever suffered. How could she do that to him? He had thought their love was eternal, unbreakable. Perhaps she did not feel the same. Perhaps she never had. And now this boy was telling him that she had died, suffering death in the ravenous mouths of scarabs. Good. If only he could make her suffer three thousand years of agony, trapped in living death, as he had. Still . . . part of him desperately wished to see her again. Part of him hoped that she still loved him.

"Why does it matter if I want her back or not? Why do I need you?" Imhotep asked. Zane knew the priest was sizing him up, wondering if it was worth the trouble to kill him.

Zane hadn't understood before, but he did now. "Because there is no body. The only spell you know requires her body. But I know another. Without me, you have nothing."

"Why do you care for Anck-su-namon?"

It was hard to explain with his limited grasp of Egyptian. "I have seen her, and I have seen you, in visions. I have seen your love. I have felt it." He took a breath, "Can't you hear her? Whispering in the back of your mind? Don't you want to bring her back, living and breathing?"

Imhotep could indeed hear Anck-su-namon. Her voice was distant, and nearly lost beneath the cries of other souls. She was calling out for help. As much as he tried to harden his heart against her, he could not.

Zane could feel Imhotep's desire. "Then let's go bring her back. Follow me." Zane turned and backed up so he could jump across the gap. The souls below called out to him again, but Zane was able to block them out. He landed on the other side and heard Imhotep land behind him a moment later. The priest could easily pick Zane up and throw him into the chasm if he wished, but Imhotep made no move of aggression. The boy had given him no reason for distrust yet. He would wait a while longer. 

Without a word, Zane picked up the black book and handed it to Imhotep. The Egyptian took the book, feeling the weight of power in it, and the weight of the events that had surrounded it. Zane picked up the gold book and put on his backpack before leaving the chamber.


	5. Her Call

The call of Anck-su-namon was growing stronger with every step. Zane had to control himself so that he would not run. Memories that weren't his filled his head. Some of them were from the visions he had seen, but there were other things: the feel of her skin, her smell, the way she tasted . . .

And then he was standing a few feet from where she had fallen, where she had died for the second time. His heart was pounding in his chest, and the air in the room began to get very heavy. "Stay on this side." He said quietly to Imhotep. The High Priest remained silent. He knew the feeling of magic in the air. Zane leapt over the crack in the floor. He could sense the presence of Anubis behind him, and he felt the energy of the ritual already beginning to flow through him. With the gold book in his arms, he knelt at the edge of the large crack. On the other side, Imhotep did the same. Imhotep could also feel the presence of Anubis in the room, and he did not like it. He had done much to incur the wrath of the gods. Anubis himself had taken away his powers when he was last within this pyramid. But the energy of the ritual was flowing through him as well.

The two of them opened their respective books, turning the pages to the correct ritual. Imhotep was drawing on knowledge, Zane was drawing on instinct. Imhotep began to read first, the words almost forming like solid things in the air. The shadows in the crack began to move, rippling like water. As Imhotep continued to speak, a form could be seen moving beneath the surface, hunting for escape, eager. Imhotep paused and Zane began reading the ancient Egyptian text as if it were English. A disconnected part of him marveled at the beauty of the language. Power was flowing into the room, into the crevice. He could feel barriers shifting, weakening. Imhotep was reading again, the two spells flowing together, combining, becoming one.

Zane reached the end of the passage and stopped. Imhotep had finished as well. They looked at each other across the small rift as silence descended. It wasn't finished. Something was missing. "What's wrong?" he asked. Anubis drew more distant, and Zane could sense a hesitation in him. It made Zane nervous. "What is it? What else do we need?" Still the hesitation. Zane got to his feet. He was afraid, and angry. In his anger, he called his patron by his Egyptian name, "Yinepu! What aren't you telling me?!"

The god's voice came, quietly whispering across the room like fall leaves blown over concrete. _Sacrifice . . ._

The strange words had stopped. Adeem stood just outside the room, his knife at the ready. There was now another man with the American. He looked strong and dangerous, but no matter. Adeem would have the treasure here, and no one else must find out where it was hidden. 

The boy was standing now, screaming at the air. He must be insane. Adeem would be doing him a favor. The moment was now. Adeem tightened his grip on the knife and rushed forward. 

A chill filled Zane. Who or what was going to be sacrificed? He looked across the crack at Imhotep, and the priest suddenly yelled and pointed. Zane turned and saw a man holding a large knife running at him. Before he could react, he was grabbed around the waist with the knife to his throat. "Don't move!" Adeem yelled. Neither Zane nor Imhotep spoke Arabic, but they understood what the man meant. Zane swallowed, feeling the blade so cold against his skin. Was he to be sacrificed then?

Imhotep raised his arm and pointed it at the intruder. Nothing happened. He had indeed returned as a mortal. Separated by a crack that was perhaps three feet long, he was helpless. But why did he care? This boy was nothing to him, just another human like so many he had killed or left to die. If the spell failed with his death, he would simply find another way to bring Anck-su-namon back. He was Imhotep, High Priest of Osiris. He could do anything. But he did want the boy to live, even if he didn't understand why. "Anubis, will you not save your servant?" He called. There was no answer. 

One of Zane's arms was trapped in Adeem's grip, but the other was free. If he could move fast enough, maybe he could grab Adeem's knife arm and hold it back. Of course if he was too slow, his neck would be slashed. Fear kept him immobile. Then he got an idea. "Move closer!" He said to Imhotep. The priest took a step toward them. "Stay where you are!" Adeem yelled, but for a second his attention was off Zane. As quick as he could, Zane moved his arm out and back, jabbing Adeem in the side with his elbow. In the same motion he brought his hand up and grabbed Adeem's knife arm. Imhotep jumped the gap and punched Adeem in the head, giving Zane a chance to escape. Zane ducked under the knife and twisted his other arm free. He stumbled back a step and felt his foot touch the edge of the crack. Quickly he moved aside and around Adeem. The intruder turned to face Imhotep and Zane, his knife held out protectively in front of him. He took a step back to steady himself. Even two on one, the knife held them back. One of them could be killed or seriously injured before they could disarm him. 

Still focusing on Adeem and the weapon he held, neither Imhotep nor Zane saw the shadowy hand reach out of the crack and wrap itself around the man's ankle. Adeem was pulled forcefully down, landing on his face. Zane watched in shock as the would-be thief and murderer was dragged screaming into the churning blackness of the rift.

Just as his hand, still holding the knife, disappeared, the almost liquid shadows began to boil. Out of the center of the pit, a figure rose as dark as the shadows around it. Without thinking, Zane bent and picked up the Book of Amon-Ra, turned the pages and began to read. He spoke the words without truly knowing them, but he caught a few things here and there. "A life for a life . . . take this sacrifice and give to me a body . . . a vessel for her soul." As he read the figure became more distinct, the shape becoming more female and then taking on color. The shadows in the pit calmed and faded until they were nothing more then normal shadows. Anck-su-namon lay at the bottom of the fissure, dressed as she had been at her second death. 


	6. The Truth

Imhotep jumped down into the rift and stood near her, not knowing what to do. Here was the woman he had suffered for, died for, defied the gods for. The woman who had left him to die in the end. He still loved her, deeply, but he also felt the aching pain of her abandonment. 

Above them, Zane stood looking down. The spell was over, its power gone. It was replaced by the feeling he'd had before, sensing both Imhotep and Anck. At the moment he only felt the sleeping Anck's presence, but he could feel the strong emotions running through Imhotep. "Wake her up." Zane said quietly. Imhotep turned and looked up at him for a second. He had forgotten that the young man was there. Why had he resurrected him and Anck-su-namon? What did he expect to get out of it? Imhotep turned back to Anck-su-namon and knelt at her head. He hesitated, fearing her reaction when she awoke. Would she scream? Would she run? After a moment he bent, brushed the hair from her face, and gently kissed her forehead.

Anck-su-namon stirred. Zane could feel her swimming up from unconsciousness, and her mind latched on to her last memory: being eaten alive by scarabs. Her eyes flew open and she began to scream. Zane, reliving it with her, screamed as well, his flesh on fire with hundreds of mouths biting and biting. When Zane came back to himself he saw that Anck was still screaming. Imhotep stood near her, confused and afraid. "She's reliving her death." Zane said, then he realized he had spoken in English. He said it again in Egyptian. Imhotep made no move. Zane jumped down into the crack and took Imhotep by the arm. "Hold her, make her see you. Tell her she's alive."

In a daze, Imhotep bent and grasped Anck's shoulders, shaking her gently. "Anck-su-namon! Anck-su-namon!" He yelled. "You live! It's me, Imhotep! Look!" At the sound of his voice her eyes began to clear. She stopped screaming and her breathing slowed.

"Imhotep?" She said uncertainly. He nodded. "Imhotep!" She exclaimed happily. She wrapped her arms around him, hugged him tight, kissed him.

Zane watched them, feeling Anck's happiness. Imhotep was happy, too, but there was also pain in him. Feeling that pain, remembering that horrid moment when she left him to die, Zane's anger began to rise. How could she hug him as if nothing had happened? How could she act as if she cared for him after running to save her own skin? Zane strode toward the couple. "Selfish bitch!" He screamed. "See what you did to him!" He reached inside and found those last moments before Imhotep fell, grabbed Anck-su-namon's arm and _pushed _the experience into her. Their minds became linked, and as Anck-su-namon felt Imhotep's pain, Zane experienced what she had gone through. As Imhotep dangled over the abyss, Anck-su-namon stood frozen in the doorway. She was afraid for herself, but she was also afraid for Imhotep. Terror dominated her, and in that state, something inside her rose up to take control. 

"Anck-su-namon! Save me!" Imhotep called.

And across the room, Meela cried, "_Ny__!" and ran as fast as she could from the scene. Self-preservation won out over love, Meela won out over Anck-su-namon. Moments later, both of them met their doom._

Back in his own body, Zane gasped for breath. In front of him was Anck-su-namon, tears streaming from her eyes. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She wept.

Zane was crying, too. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Imhotep was standing behind Anck, not knowing what had just happened. But the boy had made Anck-su-namon cry, and he could not let that go unpunished. Since Zane had brought them both back from the dead, Imhotep would allow him to explain himself first. "What did you do to her?"

Zane turned to Imhotep, knowing that the priest had every intention of harming or even killing him, but he was not afraid. "I made her feel what you felt. To see what you saw when she left you to die."

There was a pause. Imhotep had not been expecting an answer like that. "And I felt what she did." Zane continued, "It was not her, but Meela that left you."

Imhotep stood silent. The information was surprising, to put it mildly. "Oh, Imhotep! I'm so sorry!" Anck-su-namon wept, burying her head in Imhotep's chest. 

An ominous rumble echoed through the building, shaking dust from the ceiling. "I think we need to get out of here." Zane said.

Imhotep and Anck-su-namon did not argue. They wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible. They followed Zane through the passages and at last out into the cool night air. At the entrance Imhotep paused, breathing in the scent of freedom. For the first time he wondered how long it had been since he fell to his death. The ground shook again and Imhotep hurried, hand in hand with Anck-su-namon, toward the trees. Zane's horse was still tied there, growing uneasy. Not far away was Adeem's camel, pulling at his rope. "You can take the camel." Zane told the Egyptians. Neither of them liked taking orders, but there wasn't much of a choice at the moment. They mounted the camel and followed Zane through the trees. Imhotep did not know what to do with this boy, but he had gotten them this far, so for now he was willing to let him lead the way.

The rumblings came intermittently as the trio rode through the jungle. Although it was dense, they were able to make their way through it and out into the desert. They did not stop until they had reached the top of a large dune and turned to face Ahm Shere. The whole trip was made in silence, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

As they watched, Ahm Shere shuddered and began to sink back into the sand. The desert swallowed it completely, leaving no trace. Anubis spoke in Zane's head, "You may call yourself my priest, now. You have more than earned it."

The silhouette of what might have been a jackal disappeared over a dune to their left. Zane turned to follow. He wondered what they were going to do now. The Egyptians were going to have to find a way to adapt to the modern world. Anck had last been alive in the 30's, so perhaps it would not be as hard for her, but Imhotep had about 3,000 years of catching up to do. They rode in silence through the desert night for a while until Zane felt the need to break it. He began to tell them the story of how they came to be resurrected. Both of them listened with interest, interjecting here and there with questions. Imhotep and Anck-su-namon relaxed as the story progressed, forgetting for now their anger, fear and pain. Zane began to feel a bit of excitement. He couldn't wait to show them the modern world and all its technologies: television, movies, video games, the internet, microwaves. So many things to see and do. And of course whatever the gods had in store for them.

The future was certainly going to be interesting. 


End file.
